She stopped, her eyes deserting his face, and stared out into the darkness.  He waited, feeling vaguely that he had not heard all she intended to say.

“What more do you know?” he asked.  “What was it you expected of me?”

She turned again, aroused by the question.

“Yes, I must tell you as quickly as I can, before I am missed.  I did not know about Mrs. Dupont and Lieutenant Gaskins.  I realized there was something between them—­a—­a—­slight flirtation, but scarcely gave that a thought.  What brought me here was a much more serious matter, yet this new information helps me to comprehend the other—­the motives, I mean.  Mrs. Dupont’s maiden name was Vera Carson?”

“Certainly; I knew her family well.”

“She came here, and was received into our family as a daughter of my father’s sister.  If true, her maiden name would have been Sarah Counts.  Papa had no reason to suspect the deceit.  He does not now, and I doubt if even your word would convince him, for he seems thoroughly under her influence.  There has been such a change in him since she came; not all at once, you know, but gradual, until now he scarcely seems like the same man.  I—­I do not dislike Lieutenant Gaskins; he has been pleasant and attentive, but I do not care for him in any other way.  Yet papa insists that I marry the man.  Lately he has been very unkind about it, and—­and I am sure she is urging him on.  What can I do?  It is all so unpleasant.”

Hamlin shook his head, but without reply.

“You will not tell me!  Then I will tell you I shall say no! no! no!  In spite of them; I shall refuse to be sold.  But how does that woman control my father?” she leaned closer in her earnestness, lowering her voice.  “She has not won him by charms; he is afraid of her.”

“Afraid?  Are you certain of that?”

“Yes.  I cannot tell you how I know; perhaps it is all womanly instinct, but I do know that he is terrorized; that he dare not oppose her wish.  I have read the truth in his eyes, and I am sure he is harsh to me only because he is driven by some threat.  What can it be?”

“You have never spoken to him of your suspicions?  Asked him?”

“Yes and no.  I tried once, and shall never forget the expression of his face.  Then he turned on me in a perfect paroxysm of anger.  I never even dared hint at the matter again.”

The Sergeant stared out into the street, not knowing what to say, or how to advise.  Almost unconscious of the action his hand stole along the rail until it touched hers.

“If the woman has not ensnared him by her usual methods,” he said soberly, “and I think myself you are right about that, for I watched them together in the dance hall—­I did not comprehend what it meant then, but it seemed to me he actually disliked being in her company—­then she has uncovered something in his past of which he is afraid, something unknown to you, which he does not desire you ever to know.”